At Dizzy’s Roundtable, Barney ordered bread pudding with bourbon sauce for dessert. Recalling the morning that he’d sucked cream horn filling from her finger and how sexy that had been, Taffeta decided to try that tactic herself. She eyed his plate, deliberately dimpled a cheek, and asked, “May I have a tiny taste of the bourbon sauce? I’ve never tried it.”
Barney started to reach for her spoon, but Taffeta forestalled him with “No, no. Give me a taste with your finger.” Lowering her voice, she added, “It’ll look so much more convincing that way. Don’t you think?”
He shrugged and dipped his forefinger in the sauce. “You better hope my hands are clean.”
Taffeta giggled. “What are a few germs between lovers?” She leaned across the small table for two, clasped his broad wrist, and guided his fingertip to her mouth. No way was she going to just suck the sauce off. Oh no. She was going to lick it off, and then she’d suck his skin clean. Oh yeah. If he already wanted her, that would send his blood pressure rocketing clear off the chart. “Oo-oo-oh. Mmm-mm-mm.” She daintily circled his fingertip with her tongue. “That is so good it’s almost orgasmic.”
She felt his arm tense. “Taffy, people are staring.”
She winked at him. “That’s the whole idea, isn’t it? To convince them we’re madly in love?” She licked his finger again and moaned. “Oh my God. How fabulous can it get?” She met his startled and suddenly glassy gaze. “How am I doing with the act?” she whispered.
“Pretty damned good.” His voice had gone gravelly and thick. “But I—”
Taffeta interrupted him with “Oh, that’s a relief. I’m such a lousy actress.”
When she released her hold on Barney’s wrist, he looked as if he’d just been shocked with high-voltage electricity.
“That bread pudding and sauce is so divine. The next time we come here, to heck with having plain old cheesecake for dessert.”
Taffeta picked up her linen napkin, but instead of dabbing her mouth with it, she used the tip of her tongue to clean her lips, even though absolutely none of the sauce still clung to them. She glanced up to find Barney’s gaze riveted to her mouth. She’d gotten to him, big-time. She just knew she had, and she’d only just started to play this game. Before much longer, she would have this man in her bed, making passionate love to her. She would. He could stuff his blasted honorable streak under a pillow.
My turn, she thought. It wasn’t that she didn’t admire Barney for sticking to his principles. Of course she did. But how could she be sure she’d ever again meet another man who appealed to her in all the same ways that he did?
When they got home, Barney didn’t wait for her to change into loose, ugly clothing. He sped past her with long, purposeful strides and called over his shoulder, “G’night, Taffy. Sleep well. I’m totally beat.”
Taffeta looked down at her dress, a strappy, red knit shift that clung to her body like a second skin. She’d worn it for a charity event while still married to Phillip. Most of the fund-raisers had called for more subdued outfits, but that particular event had been a rare glitzy affair. She’d worn silver spike heels, lots of matching bangles, and a choker. Tonight she wore her black heels and no jewelry, except for her cheap wedding band, but a dress like this didn’t need any flash. It made its own statement.
She lifted her arms and twirled in the living room, gyrating her hips and softly singing, “I can get some satisfaction.” Yes. She doubled her fist, raised it high, and brought her elbow down in a sharp dive.
• • •
Still shivering from the cold shower he’d just taken, Barney lay on his bed and stared blindly at the ceiling. He had a hard-on that tented the quilt he’d drawn over himself, and he had a bad feeling that he’d be in this condition all night.
He felt pissed at Taffeta for doing this to him, but a stab of guilt quickly drove the spurt of anger away. She’d been with only an inexperienced jock in high school and her ex-husband, who’d been too selfish to bother with making her happy in bed, so she couldn’t have very much experience with men. It followed that he couldn’t, in good conscience, be mad at her for turning him on. She’d put on a great show at the restaurant to convince onlookers that they were deeply in love, and it wasn’t her fault that he’d had a physical reaction. Bottom line, she hadn’t deliberately pushed all his buttons, and she was probably sound asleep by now, blissfully unaware that she had subjected him to an entire night of pure misery.
• • •
At her shop the following day, Taffeta tried to think of some way she could turn Barney on again that night. She couldn’t ask for a taste of his food again. That would be too obvious, and he would realize what she was up to. So what could she do? Per Barney’s request, she was already dressing sexy when they went out, but that alone didn’t work because she had to change as soon as they got home.
I’m up against a brick wall, she thought dismally. I’m a total bomb at seduction. She sorely wished she had a girlfriend who might give her some ideas, but relationships like that took time to build.
To cheer herself up, Taffeta turned on the radio behind the counter, selected a popular country station, and began restocking her shelves from boxes that had been delivered that morning. The song about a guy giving a girl a ride on his John Deere tractor came over the air, reminding Taffeta of Barney saying that he’d give her a ride on his tractor someday. Her first thought had been that she’d prefer it if he took her out into the woods and checked her for ticks.
Do they even have ticks in Mystic Creek? Taffeta didn’t know, so that plan was out. A few minutes later, Crystal Malloy, who owned Silver Beach, came into the shop. Today her waist-length, wavy hair was its natural red. She wore calf-hugging black boots and a green knit dress that showcased her figure.
“You look fabulous,” Taffeta said, and sincerely meant it. The Crystal Malloys of the world could seduce men without half trying. “I love the natural color of your hair.”
Crystal laughed. “Thank you. I decided to be me today. I get tired of advertising my rinse-away dyes by using them myself. Sometimes it’s scary when I look in a mirror because I forget what wild colors I chose for the day.”
She pushed up the sleeve of her dress. “Do you have anything for a nasty spider bite?”
Taffeta gasped when she saw the huge red lump on the beautician’s forearm. “Oh, ick. That really is nasty. It must hurt like the dickens.”
“I’m sensitive to spider bites,” Crystal said. “Otherwise I’d be racing over to Mystic Creek Urgent Care on Red Barn Road, convinced a recluse bit me.”
“Do we have brown recluse spiders here?” Taffeta shuddered at the thought. “I’ve been terrified of spiders since early childhood. Why, I don’t know. But all kinds send me running in the opposite direction.”
“I’m with you on the terror,” Crystal replied. “And yes, we do have the brown recluse. I don’t think they’re indigenous to our area. From what I’ve heard, they come in on trucks in boxes, get loose inside buildings, and set up camp. I called a bug control place in Crystal Falls this morning. They’re coming tomorrow to spray my shop and apartment.” She turned her arm to look at the bite. “I can’t quite afford it, but this convinced me I can’t afford not to have it done.”
Taffeta led the way to her first-aid aisle. “This will help,” she said, lifting a box from the shelf. “It’ll stave off infection, and it has a numbing agent in it to ease the tenderness.” She handed Crystal the ointment. “But, in all honesty, I’d use a baking-soda poultice on the bite first. I know it’s an old home remedy, but I think it actually works. I’ve used it on bee stings and other bites. I swear, you can see it draw out the poison sometimes.”
Crystal kept the ointment and questioned Taffeta with her gaze. “How do I make a baking soda poultice? I’ve never heard of it.”
Taffeta gave her instructions. “Leave it on the bite until it dries and sta
rts to flake off. Then wash the area, dab it dry with sterile gauze, and apply the ointment.”
Crystal left moments later with the ointment and a package of gauze. Taffeta stood behind the cash register, staring at nothing. Mystic Creek has brown recluse spiders. Her mouth quirked as she suppressed a grin. Crystal didn’t know it, but she’d just given Taffeta an idea how to seduce Barney tonight.
• • •
Taffeta dressed for dinner in skintight jeans and the pink knit top that Barney loved. She also followed Crystal’s lead and wore her high-heeled black boots, which hugged her legs to the knee like the skin on an onion. She could hardly wait to get home after dinner, because she had a fabulous seduction plan cooked up. Even better, she felt confident that she could pull it off. Just thinking about spiders made her feel panicky, so playing her role wouldn’t require much acting ability.
After they left the house, Barney was quiet as he navigated his truck along the country roads toward Mystic Creek. Taffeta sensed that something was bothering him, but she didn’t know what. Concern edged away her excitement about her seduction scheme.
“What’s bothering you, Barney? You’re very quiet.”
He sighed. “I hate having to say this, Taffy. But as a deputy, I really can’t afford to pay for fine dining every evening, so some nights we’re going to have to slum it. I’m thinking about doing dinner at Taco Joe’s tonight. Just as many people will see us together. You like tacos?”
Taffeta’s heart caught. Of course he couldn’t afford all this eating out. Where had her head been, in the sand? “Oh, Barney, I’m sorry. From now on, I’ll pay for our meals. We’re eating out because of Sarah. It’s not your expense to pay.”
He executed a curve and then threw her a perturbed look. “You can’t do that. We’re married, remember? In this little town, onlookers would notice you paying for our meals and wonder what the hell is going on. Normally the husband pays.”
Taffeta thought that was a bit archaic. Nowadays many wives were professionals who earned good incomes. But this was Mystic Creek, a quaint, old-fashioned little town populated by people who thought differently about many things. “You’ve definitely got a point,” she conceded. “So I’ll settle up with you at home and pay for our meals.”
“Do you have a problem with slumming it?” He gave her a questioning look. “Just curious, because after I divorce you, I might like to date you, and I can’t afford high-maintenance women.”
She laughed. “I happen to like tacos—and hamburgers. Sissy Sue, the little gal who runs the Cauldron, makes my mouth water when she comes in around lunchtime, offering franks simmered in sauerkraut, hot corn dogs with the house dip, freshly made chili, and the most fabulous fries!”
“She’s new in town,” Barney said, “a relative of the old lady who once owned the place and passed away. Sissy inherited the business. I don’t know her life story, but I have a feeling she grew up without much and feels like she just hit the jackpot.”
“A foster kid, maybe, just like me? Hello, I didn’t grow up enjoying gourmet cooking. Mostly I got hamburger goulash or beans with ham, only I went blind looking for the ham. Maybe I should get to know Sissy Sue. We might have a lot in common.”
His shoulders relaxed. “Well, I’m sorry you grew up that way, and I’m sorry if she did. My mother managed to serve fabulous meals, even during the lean years. We raised so much of what we ate that us kids never felt the pinch.”
Taffeta had only good feelings about Kate Sterling. She radiated warmth. What a joy it must have been for Barney and his siblings to have her as their mother. And Jeremiah? He reminded her strongly of Barney, tall, handsome, and powerfully built, yet gentle and caring.
“Let’s do Taco Joe’s tonight, and tomorrow night, I’d dearly love to try the Cauldron,” she said.
He nodded. “Maybe we can get to know Sissy a little better.” He winked at her. “I think she’s younger than you, but it would be good for you to have a best friend.” The crease in his cheek flashed as he grinned. “A best friend besides me, I mean.”
Taffeta didn’t correct his assumption that he’d become her best friend. Despite the sexual tension that came to a high boil between them at night, Barney had become her buddy. Why not? If she couldn’t have him as her lover, she needed some kind of connection with him that meant something.
“Yep,” she agreed. “You’re, hands down, the best friend I’ve ever had.”
“Don’t get mushy on me,” he ordered as he muscled the huge truck into a parking place on West Main in front of Taco Joe’s. “Otherwise, wearing those damned tight jeans, you’ll end up being a flattened decoration on my dining room wall later tonight.”
Taffeta choked back a giggle. She would have loved to hang on his wall again—if he was holding her up.
Joe yelled hello when they entered his eatery. Like every business in Mystic Creek, his place was quaint with gnarled myrtle wood tables in the booths, old pictures of Mystic Creek lining the walls, and a rack of forgotten ball caps that Joe had turned into a conversation piece. After she and Barney placed their orders, Taffeta couldn’t resist studying the collection. Barney joined her, probably not because he’d never seen all the hat logos, but because he wanted to play glued-to-his-bride. One caption read SCREW MY BRAINS OUT. I DON’T GOT NONE, ANYHOW. Another one read MY WIFE THINKS I’M FISHIN’. Taffeta particularly liked the one that said I’M THE CAPTAIN OF THIS BOAT. MY WIFE SAYS SO.
Barney let Taffeta look at every cap. Joe hollered from the kitchen pass-through that men had started leaving their hats behind on purpose, and he named off a few of the owners who had wanted their headgear to be mounted on the Wall of Fame.
Taffeta and Barney wandered to look at old photos of Mystic Creek that peppered the other walls. Both of them greeted fellow patrons and fielded questions about how they were liking married life. Taffeta found a dated picture of East Main more fascinating than all the others. Her shop had once housed a saddle and tack store, and next door there had been a soda fountain.
“I loved going there,” Barney said, pointing to the fountain. “An old man named Mac owned it, and after Friday night games I used to take my girlfriends in there for a root beer float, hoping to score.”
Taffeta gave him an inquiring look.
He chuckled and said, “Sweetheart, back then, scoring meant a girl liked me enough to share the same straw.”
After enjoying tacos for dinner, they took a stroll to the town center. Barney kept one arm loosely curled around her shoulders. At the water feature, a spewing fountain that emptied into a small pond, they each tossed in a penny and made a wish. Taffeta hoped that Barney would fall in love with her. She had no idea what he wished for, but given the constant sexual frustration, she suspected that he wanted this fake marriage to be over with quickly.
When they got back to his house, Taffeta hurried into the dining room as if she meant to race to her bedroom and change into baggy clothing. But as she came abreast of the table, she executed her next seduction plan.
“Oh God, oh God!” She peeked down the scoop neckline of her top and shrieked. Then she started slapping her breasts. “Help me! Help me! There’s a spider in my bra!”
• • •
Barney recognized true panic when he saw it, and Taffeta was in the throes of a full-blown attack. He leaped into action, afraid she might bruise herself with all the blows she was dealing to her chest.
“Taffy, stop! It’s only a spider. I’ll get it off you. Just calm down.”
“Recluse,” she cried. “It’s a recluse! I saw the fiddle shape on it!”
Before Barney could reach her, she grabbed the hem of her top and skimmed it off over the top of her head. He’d seen plenty of women in underclothes, but Taffeta had an ampler bosom than most, and she had on a lacy pink half-cup bra. His eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. With her bouncing around and shrieking like this,
he half expected her breasts to spill out. And God help him, he thought, Bring it on, baby.
He grabbed her wrists and tried his damnedest to banish all lustful urges from his mind. “It’s okay. Trust me. I’ll catch it and smash it.”
She squeezed her eyes closed. “It’s in my bra! I can feel it crawling! Get it! Get it! Off me, off me!”
“Be still,” he ordered. “A recluse bites when it gets startled. They’re aggressive little buggers.”
Barney felt sweat bead on his forehead as he dipped his fingertips under the pink lace to peek inside her bra. Her warm, silken skin grazed his knuckles. Oh, man. He forced himself to focus on only the task at hand and peered inside one lace cup and then the other. He saw a dark brown splotch next to her left nipple.
“Don’t move,” he whispered. Barney had seen pictures of recluse bites, and they were horrible. People’s flesh sloughed off, leaving disfiguring holes. Just the thought of that beautiful breast being destroyed made him feel half sick. “I see it,” he said softly. “I’m going to grab it really fast and smash it between my fingers.”
Her eyes went wide, and all the color drained from her face. “You see it?” Her body stiffened. “Oh God, a spider’s in my bra?”
Before Barney could reply, Taffeta freaked out even more. She jerked from his grasp, unfastened the front catch of her undergarment, and the most beautiful breasts he’d ever seen burst free from the lace confines.
She spun in circles, brushing frantically at her skin. “Where is it? Oh God, get it off me!”
Barney grabbed her by the shoulders. “I’m sure you’ve knocked it off by now.” He glanced down. The brown splotch by her nipple was still there. A mole. “Wait. It’s not a spider. It’s a blemish.”
She stopped wiggling in his grasp. “A blemish?”